As the Spirit Moves Me
by jibber59
Summary: What Ezra needs to figure out now, is if he has a ghost of a chance.
1. Chapter 1

The echoes of the dynamite blast reverberated through the town. It was a fitting period on the gunfight that had ended seconds earlier.

Ezra looked around at the damage the had been done. Five dead, all bad guys thank heavens. It appeared at least on first glance that the seven had all escaped injury for a change. Ezra quietly cursed himself for having the thought, hoping he had not tempted fate.

The window of the bank had been destroyed – again. He considered fleetingly, and not for the first time, of abandoning any dream he had of running his own saloon in favour of opening a glass replacement service. Of course, the way his luck had been running lately, that would be there the next stick of dynamite would land.

The thought lead him to scan the street again for damage. There were a few more broken windows and other damages, but all the buildings seemed solid. He sighed with relief when his eyes landed on the livery. The horses, including his beloved Chaucer, had undoubtedly been severely spooked by the noises, but their residence was undamaged. Had he not wrestled the dynamite away from the young thief the building would have been destroyed, all in an effort to ensure the gang could not be chased. Inhuman savages. The thought of the wanton destruction made Ezra wish he could shoot the bastard again.

Turning back to the street he saw Chris, Buck and Nathan running toward the blast site. JD was headed in the opposite direction, toward Nathan's clinic, which meant someone had been hurt. He looked around fighting down a surge of panic, relaxing slightly when he saw Josiah moving toward him from the far end of town. That left only Vin unaccounted for, but that made no sense. The injury had to be the result of the blast, and Vin was on the hotel roof, away from any impact. Unless, he realized in horror, the force of the blast had knocked the sharpshooter from his perch.

As he started toward the downed man he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Vin was coming out of the alleyway, and Ezra slowed in relief. He felt a pang of guilt. Someone had been hurt, likely because of the dynamite he had thrown in his effort to get it as far from town as possible. He'd had no choice. One glance had shown him the fuse was bound inside the five sticks that had been secured to form the bomb. It couldn't be stopped, only removed from where it would do so much harm – cause so much devastation. He'd run faster than he ever done in his life, and thrown with a strength he didn't know he had. Now he feared he had thrown directly at an unsuspecting victim.

The close he got, the more puzzled he became. The others were in a near state of panic, shouting something Ezra couldn't understand. It was only then he realized his hearing had been affected by all of this. Sounds were muffled – distant. He concluded it must be a side effect of the blast and dearly hoped it was a temporary condition. Regardless, Nathan had more pressing concerns at the moment. He was enormously grateful that seemed to be the only ill effect he had from the experience. He stopped in mid stride. That made no sense. He'd been close enough to the blast he should have at least been knocked off his feet. Barring that, he should have been winded by the run, not to mention that his shoulder, problematic at the best of times should be aching after the throw he'd made. Yet, none of these things bothered him. Not at all. Was he in shock? Yes, that had to be in. He would approach Nathan once the others had been looked at.

He returned his gaze to the men huddled on the ground near the injured figure. Nathan turned slightly as JD charged past Ezra with the medical bag. He moved in close, shaking his head to clear the persistent fog. It must have worked, because the voices were becoming clearer.

"Can you help him Nathan?" "How bad is it Nathan?" "What can we do?" It was JDs question that brought Ezra's advancement on the scene to an abrupt halt. "Is he still alive Nathan? Is Ezra still alive?"

"Only just." was the quiet response. Buck stood up and stepped back to clear the onlookers away. The space allowed Ezra to take the last few steps he needed to stand next to the victim of the explosion. He looked down to see his own face, bruised, bloodied and as pale as death.

" _Oh Good Lord_ ," he thought, " _I'm dead_."

7-7-7-7-7-7

 _15 minutes earlier_

"Strike you as at all strange them 4 boys seem so interested in the bank?"

Josiah was leaning against the railing of the saloon verandah, looking as inconspicuous as his size would allow. He answered Buck without moving. "I'd been thinking the same thing. Nathan went inside to mention it to Chris. You know where the others are?"

"Vin headed to high ground for a better view of the town. He's either on the hotel or" he glanced up, "yup, on the hotel it is. JD's at the jail and Ezra just rode in from patrol, so he's likely spoiling that damn beast of his."

"Don't let him hear you talk about Chaucer like that."

Bucks attention was distracted from Josiah's rebuke by a summons from inside the tavern. He and Josiah both headed over the table where Chris sat. The passed Nathan on his way out.

"He's headed over to let JD know something's going on. We'll give them a minute, then head out. Ezra will likely hear the commotion and join us."

"Commotion? You plan on making some noise?"

"Just talk Buck. At least to start. Hopefully they'll see the group of us as something more than they want to deal with."

"Got to say I'm a little offended that our reputation hasn't scared more of these folks off." Buck complained.

"Works the other way. Young hotshots want to challenge us. Prove themselves." Chris replied.

"Good way to stay young forever." Josiah observed.

Buck raised an eyebrow. "Feelin' philosophical today?"

He had no chance to answer as Chris stood and led them outside. JD and Nathan were lining up across the street, obviously focusing their attention on the group gathered near the bank. Chris allowed his eyes to scan the building tops. He saw only Vin perched above them, and a quick nod confirmed the other rooftops had been checked. No surprises from above.

Ezra was brushing dust from his coat as he exited the livery. It took one a glance at the scene in front of him to cause him to turn his step toward the far side of the bank.

Knowing subtlety would be lost on this bunch Chris opted for the direct approach, quickly covering the ground that brought him to the middle of the street. Before he had a chance to say anything, one of the quartet spun, gun being pulled from its holster. It hadn't cleared the top when a bullet from above dropped him where he stood. Chris and the others, dove for cover, guns firing.

It wasn't long until the sound of breaking glass signaled to them that at least on bullet went through the bank window. Josiah said a quick prayer that everyone inside had hit the floor when the shooting started. He'd barely finished the thought when he saw one of the thieves moving to get into position behind Nathan and JD. He made in only a few steps before Josiah's shot stopped him.

Chris and Buck likewise had no trouble disposing of the last of the shooters. Clearly, no one had been in the mood for surrender. For such a determined band of thieves they were woefully unskilled at the task.

Chris started to holster his weapon, waving Vin down from the roof when another shot range out from up the street. He spun quickly and saw Ezra running toward the body faster that he would have imagined possible. He swooped down as he ran, grabbing something from the ground before covering another 25 yards, looking at the bundle as he ran. Stopping suddenly, he heaved the item with all the force he could and turned to run back. He had taken far to few steps before the explosion rocked the town.

The men were charging toward there down comrade before the dust settled. Buck grabbed JD's arm, shouting at him to get Nathan's supplies. The young man immediately changed direction. Chris was the first to the scene, with Buck and Nathan just steps behind. His heart skipped a beat as he looked down.

Ezra had been tossed like a rag doll, landing a good 15 feet from his original position. He was on his back, left leg bent at the knee. His left arm was flung over his head while the right lay resting across his barely moving chest. Chris' first thought was that there should be more blood. A man doesn't get busted up like this and not bleed. There was some from a gash on his head, and more trailed toward the ground from his ear. Finally, a small trickle from his nose left a trail on his cheek. He could hear Josiah's prayers being voiced. Prayers Chris himself didn't have the faith to utter, and prayers he was quite certain would not be answered.

JD dropped the medical kit next to Nathan, who was now kneeling beside the still form. The healer could barely be heard as he answered JD's question. "Only just." Nathan looked toward Chris, while avoiding direct eye contact. "He's just holding on. Pupils aren't reacting, but that may be just shock" he said, with no conviction. He ran his hands over Ezra as he spoke. There was no reaction from the injured man, regardless how hard he pressed on the wounds.

"Buck, get me a stretcher. We'll try to make him comfortable."

"Talk to me Nathan."

"There's nothing to say Chris." His answer was almost whispered. "He's bleeding inside some, I can feel it. But it's the blood from the ears and nose. Means there's probably bleeding around his brain. He's not reacting to anything." He shifted from his squatting position to land hard on the ground. "I'm thinking he's just too busted up. He was too close. Maybe, and I mean maybe, if we had a real surgeon here, but even then Chris…" Buck arrived with the stretcher.

"OK, we move him nice and slow. Get him on as careful as you can. I don't want to causing him any more pain." He was speaking loud enough now for the others to hear, and they quickly moved into positions.

"What about his neck and back Nathan? We need to do anything to keep him still?"

Nathan looked and Vin and the shooter new instantly his concerns didn't matter.

"Ah shit – nothing?" Nathan stayed silent.

"Ya gotta be able to do something." JD pleaded. "You can't just let him die."

Josiah stepped up, sparing the healer any further explanations. "He's not letting Ezra die, JD. He's already gone. Just taking his body a bit of time to catch onto that. He's just too badly hurt son." They picked up the stretcher, moving slowly to Nathan's office, but only got a few steps before JD spoke again.

"Then we take him to his room. He deserves to be comfortable as we can make him. He'd want to be in that feather bed of his." Nathan nodded his agreement and they turned to continue the sad walk.

Slowly, townsfolk came out from where they had taken cover. One looked at the posture of the 6 men told them all they needed to know about the seventh. Somehow, despite the violence they lived with, no one had been quite willing to accept the fact that sooner or later this day would come, that the group would lose a member. It was almost impossible to accept that their gambler had finally run out of luck.

Ezra felt surprisingly calm all things considered. He watched as his friends carried him through town. If you had asked him 30 minutes earlier what the citizens of Four Corners would think if he died, he never would have describe the scenario he was watching now. Never have imagined so many people would appear to be so deeply upset.

Mrs. Potter was weeping openly as she held her daughter's hand. The child looked confused by the fuss, but clearly understood that something was very wrong, and was quick to start crying herself. Mary stood outside the newspaper offices, unable to move. She looked lost, not trying to hide the shock on her face. It was only when she heard the wail from Inez that she came to life, running over to where the woman had dropped to her knees. She bent down beside her, wrapping her arms around the trembling form, trying to offer comfort that simply could not be sufficient.

Ezra looked away, unable to process the grief he was seeing. That was when he saw Nettie Wells holding onto her niece Casey. The women were in town for supplies. Now there was nothing Casey wanted to do more than offer her own support to JD. "Not now child," he heard Nettie say. "He needs to be with his friends. With Ezra. He'll need you later, but right now JD needs to be right where he is."

He watched his friends pass by. Watching them, seeing the looks on their faces, reality began to sink in. He was gone. No more fine brandy, no more poker. No more long rides on Chaucer. He looked again at the men walking past.

No more joking with Buck about his latest conquest. No more teasing JD regarding his naïve approach to life. No discussions of philosophical issues with Josiah. Never again would he hear Vin's poetry, or listen to Nathan harass him about an all night poker game. Never to hear Chris yell at him for being late for patrol, or not focused enough on the task, or any one of a thousand other things Ezra loved to do to irritate their leader. The reality was that he would never again spend time with these men who had, to his everlasting surprise, become his friends.

He felt anger swelling inside him. How dare these young punks think they can rob a bank, that they can hurt and kill just for their personal gain. He was Ezra Standish, damn it, and he was not supposed to die at the hands of a bunch of hooligans who were incapable of planning and executing an intelligent crime. Dying like this was nothing short of embarrassing.

Not yet willing to accept his fate, he avoided looking down, not wanting to see his body as the men passed by him, oblivious to his observation. He was grateful to JD for directing them to the comfort of his own room. Dying in his own feather bed was a luxury he somehow never expected to be allowed. Men who led the life he did were not likely to die in that kind of comfort.

" _Wait a minute_." He spoke without thinking of the fact no one would hear. " _They're taking me there to die. So, I'm not dead yet._ " He realized he must be close to that moment. It was the only explanation for the strange sensations he was experiencing. But, not yet. And if he was alive, then this wasn't over. " _This is no time to be folding your hand Standish. This game isn't over. All you have to do is – is – shit. What the hell am I suppose to do about this?_ "

On the long list of life experiences Ezra could draw from, nothing prepared him for this situation. Coming back from the dead – correction – near dead, was not a concept he had any reference point for.

" _Clearly this is a time for rational, calm planning. There has to be a way to deal with this, and panic will not assist in anyway. First thing, do not lose sight of yourself Standish_." He realized the team had moved well past him, and in fact were no longer on the street. The townsfolk had started to turn to the task of cleaning up the damage to their homes and businesses, and Ezra knew he had little time to waste. He moved quickly to catch up to himself, and followed his body up the stairs to his room.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

"He looks comfortable," Vin noted as he smoothed out the quilt covering Ezra. "Do you think he's in any pain Nathan?"

"Can't say for certain, but from what I saw during the war, I'd guess not. A doctor told me once the brain starts to shut down, it can only handle taking care of the basics. Breathing and so on. Pain doesn't seem to be an issue."

They stood quietly, looking down at their friend, completely at a loss of for what to say or do next. Finally, Chris found his voice.

"How long do you figure?"

"Can't really predict something like that. It could be any minute now, or he might hang on for a couple of days. No way of knowing exactly where in the brain the damage was, so can't figure how long he can hold on. It all comes down to where the pressure is, what parts – hell, you guys don't need to know the details." He'd seen JD start to go pale, and decided there was no need for this discussion.

"And there's no way to fix him?" Chris knew the answer, but had to hear it.

"Maybe, if we had a real doctor here he could drill into his head and fix what needed to be done. But I'm not good enough for that."

"Knock if off Nathan. This ain't your fault, and Ezra wouldn't want you feeling bad about this. Besides, you know full well we'd all be long dead without you around to patch us up."

"Buck's right Nathan." Josiah added. "And I am betting what you're describing isn't something just any doctor can fix up either. Sounds like a specialist kind of thing. Ain't like pulling a bullet outta someone, is it?"

Nathan grudgingly conceded the point. "No, it's not routine. But any decent doctor might at least be able to give him a better chance."

JD jumped on one word in the sentence. "A **better** chance? You saying he still has a chance?"

Nathan regretted the false hope he'd offered by a poor word choice. "Twice, during the war, I saw someone wake up after something like this. That's twice over a lot of years JD. First fellow, well it took him a couple weeks to get any of his strength back, and even then…"

"What aren't you saying Nathan?"

"He was paralyzed Chris. All he could do was move one arm, and had no real control. Never recovered from it as far as I know."

"And the other?"

"He woke up, but he never came back. Never moved, never spoke. Stared off at nothing whenever he was awake. Died a couple months after."

The heartbroken look on JD's face spoke for all of them. "That can't happen to him. Damn Buck, he'd rather be dead.

"Reckon so."

Silence again overtook the room as the men shuffled about and cleared their throats in an effort to keep that oppression at bay. After a moment, Buck grabbed JD by the arm and aimed him for the door. "Come on kid – we can't do any good up here and there's 5 carcasses outside we need to clean up."

Josiah shook himself from his stupor and rose to his feet. "I'll join you." Vin said nothing, but followed them out. None looked back.

Chris looked down, then back to Nathan. "Don't take this wrong, but are you sure?"

"Not completely, but I am as sure as I can be. He's not responding to anything I do, and his pupils aren't reacting either. Told you Chris, I'm not an expert. What I do know is there is nothing I can do. Nothing any of us can do."

Nathan watched as Chris bent down to pull the quilt a bit higher over Ezra. "You stick around for a bit. I'll be back." Then he too went downstairs to take care of business.

7-7-7-7-7-7

" _Well,"_ Ezra said, despite that fact he couldn't be heard, " _that does not inspire a great deal of confidence in my plan. Young Mr. Dunne is quite correct. The life described is not one I would choose for myself._ " He looked down at himself, watching as Nathan cleaned and bandaged him, treating his other injuries. He couldn't help wondering why the effort was being made. " _Of course. You could do nothing less than everything within your power. If that means nothing more than caring for my remains, that is what you will do. I do wish I had taken the opportunity at some point to share with you how genuinely impressed I have always been by the depth of your compassion. When we met, and I showed you none of the courtesy and respect you deserved, you defied my ill-mannered nature and treated me anyway. You have no choice but to heal, do you? And now I present you with an unwinnable hand, and will die knowing you will carry that guilt. I am so sorry._ "

Nathan leaned over Ezra as he reset the blanket in place. "Wish I could do something more for you Ezra. I know you'd be mad as a wet hen at me for saying this, but you deserve better than I can give you this time. I'm truly sorry about that." Not willing to stand by and watch the guilt on the healer's face, Ezra turned to the window, looking out over the ramshackle collection of buildings that had somehow become home. He watched as the last of the bodies from the gunfight was delivered to the undertaker's. Vin left the building quickly. He spoke briefly to Buck, then headed toward the livery.

Without consciously thinking about it, Ezra found himself outside the stable doors. He watched Vin enter slowly and head directly to Chaucer. "Hey there Chaucer. You know, don't you boy?" Tiny came over quietly.

"He's been dead still since the explosion. The others, they've all be skittish as colts, but Chaucer's ain't moved at all."

"He's going to be hard to take care off. Didn't like anybody but Ez riding him. Likely won't take to another owner." Vin tried offering a treat, but Chaucer just reared his head away.

"Don't fret about that Mr. Tanner. I'll make sure Chaucer gets what he needs. He's a good horse, just dedicated is all. And Mr. Standish, well he sure treated him right. Any man that feels that way about his horse, well he's a good man. No question on that."

Ezra was surprised by the words. He had rarely heard Tiny speak more than one short sentence at a time, and it was clear the man far preferred the company of horses to humans. To know he was thought of that way by one of the few people he trusted Chaucer's care to was gratifying. Forgetting for a moment his situation, he entered the stable to express that gratitude. He had barely entered when Chaucer reared back on his hind legs, practically knocking Vin over. They stepped back quickly to avoid contact with the agitated beast.

"What the hell got into him?"

"Not a clue," Vin replied. "Think he knew what you were saying. Maybe reacting?" It made no sense, but then neither did any other idea he could come up with. They backed off, hoping the solitude would settle the animal.

" _Come now Chaucer old friend. There is no need to react so intensely. I would not have expected you would be aware of my presence_." He watched, both amused and concerned by the fact the horse followed his every step. He couldn't even hazard a guess at what Vin and Tiny were thinking by this point. " _Chaucer, you must settle. You will do yourself an injury, and I couldn't bear the thought that my presence created such a problem_." He quieted in his stall, still whinnying softly, but no longer bucking and threatening to break down the door.

" _That's better. Listen to me 'mon ami'. You are going to have to make some adjustments. I have not abandoned the hope that I can find a way back, but I am increasingly doubtful that I shall succeed. If I fail, you must promise me you will allow these men to take my place. They will treat you well, you know that. I beseech you to do the same for them. You have good years ahead, and wasting them, wasting your talent, would be a crime_."

Vin turned to Tiny. "Did he just nod?" "Looked that way to me." They walked over to the calmed animal. Vin again held out a treat in his hand. Chaucer turned his head away quickly, then turned back, taking the proffered peppermint. "I'll be damned." Tiny mumbled.

"If I didn't know better, I would swear Ezra just lectured him on proper behavior of a southern gentlemen." Vin smiled at the idea, looking once again to Tiny. "But that couldn't have happened – right?"

7-7-7-7-7-7

Ezra strolled slowly around the town. He looked in the windows and doors of some of his favorite spots. Mrs. Potter had closed the shop for the day, but he could see her inside, sweeping a perfectly clean floor. He could also see her dabbing at her eyes with a damp handkerchief. He shook his head, smiling sadly at the scene before moving along.

The saloon was much quieter than usual. It had emptied out when Buck and Josiah came in and headed to their usual table. Both men stopped a few feet away, looking the spot Ezra would normally take. By unspoken agreement, they turned and sat on the other side of the room. Inez brought beers to the table without saying a word. Buck reached up and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before she pulled free, hurrying to the back room to cry in private.

Ezra leaned against the bar, watching the two big men slowly finish their drinks. He could almost feel them shrinking in their seats, as if the air was slowly escaping from them. They could normally overtake any space they were in, simply by their presence, but now, they barely seemed to exist.

JD came in, walking as they had to the usual spot. Unlike them, he went completed his walk, moving behind Ezra's chair and slowly pushing it up tight to the table before joining his friends.

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"No idea, kid. Guess we just keep doing what we always have."

"Doesn't seem right to plan things without Ezra in the mix."

"No, it doesn't." Josiah leaned back heavily, earning a significant creak from the chair. "I do know it is gong to be some time before I sit down to another hand of poker. Maybe I never will. Just don't think I'd enjoy it in the same way again."

" _Well that would be a foolish sacrifice to make Mr. Sanchez_ ," Ezra thought.

"Can't imagine he'd be pleased to hear you say that." Buck unknowingly echoed Ezra's thoughts. "Few things in life made him happier than a good game of cards. Think he'd hate to see anyone give that up." Ezra smiled at how well Buck understood him.

"So, we supposed to go on like nothing changed?" JD challenged.

Chris entered in time to hear the question. "No JD. Of course not. But do you think Ezra would have wanted us to just curl up and quit?"

"No, not quit. But, well it just ain't gonna be the same," he voiced the sentiment they all felt.

"You want to remember Ezra the best way you can, then you live your life the way he'd want you to. You have fun. Play cards, drink good booze. Laugh, or cry, with your friends. In other words, Live. That's how Ezra would want things to go on."

 _"And when you drink that good liquor – really Mr. Larabee? Booze? – make sure you raise a glass to me from time to time."_

"No." JD spoke firmly.

"No?"

"He's not gone yet. He's still alive, and we have to stop talking like that's gonna change. We can't quit on him."

Buck nodded. "Kid's right Chris. It ain't over yet. Let's not bury him while he's still breathing."

"You heard Nathan."

"You betting against Ezra? Never a good idea Chris." Josiah smiled for the first time that day.

Chris decided there had been enough stress and shock for the day without getting into a fight that would accomplish nothing. "Hope you're right about that JD. I really hope you are. Just don't want you getting your hopes up to high."

"I know Chris. But this is Ezra."

"Even Ezra doesn't win every hand."

"Wins the important ones." JD insisted.

The frustration was becoming more than Ezra could cope with. There were so many things he wanted to say to them still. Instructions he should have left. Even knowing the world he lived in, the enemies he'd made and the risks he took, he always assumed Lady Luck with continue to be by his side. Now it was too late.

For one thing, he wished he had told them how to let Maude know he was gone. She wasn't as tough as she let on. This was going to hurt her more than she would ever let anyone know. He wished he could tell them to go easy on her. To not accept at face value the things that she would say and do. She would need the support of his friends, but would never ask for it. It simply wasn't the Standish way of doing things.

Every bit as important, he wished he had let them know what they had all meant to him. Yes, he was dying far earlier than he might have hoped, but he could not deny that he had a sense of accomplishment that he could never have anticipated in his life. **With** his life. He owed that to the men he now dared to consider brothers. He should have told them. But that wasn't what they did. It was understood, at least he hoped it was, that they were family, and nothing more needed to said.

Ezra was too drained, in every sense, to listen to any more. Seeing the pain he was causing, the stress around his situation. He couldn't deal with it. He closed his eyes, trying to block it all out.

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

Ezra was more than a little surprised by how tired he felt. Opening his eyes, he found himself on the roof of the saloon, looking out onto a quiet town with a full moon giving way to morning sunrise. He had no idea how much time had passed. Hours? Days? More? He barely had the energy, or the will, to move.

Signs of life were beginning to appear below. Tiny headed over to the stables. The soft whinnies and brays could be heard when he opened the door, greeting his charges. Ezra smiled at the image of Chaucer edging forward, head held high, waiting to receive his breakfast. He was going to miss his oldest friend, and he was certain the feeling was mutual.

It never ceased to amaze him just how many people rose with the sun. Given the option of an early start to the day or the comfort of his feather bed, he never had to debate the options. Only the bellows from Chris or Buck, or a pending crisis, could move him before he was ready. He recalled with a blend of wistfulness and regret just how many of those crises there had been, and wished with all he had that something could inspire him to rise now.

He looked down again at the sound of another door opening. JD left the jailhouse, walking slowly toward the saloon, head bowed. He kicked at the dirt as he walked, appearing to be uncharacteristically less than anxious to arrive at his destination. He stood outside the doors for a moment before entering. Ezra could hear the discussion from below as clearly as if he had been in the room.

"Get yourself some coffee kid. You look like you can barely walk upright."

"I'm fine Chris, just a little tired is all. Take it there's no change?"

"No." Vin answered for him. "Buck is up there with him now. He needs to get some rest too."

"We all do. Problem is none of us want to be anywhere else."

"Yeah, I get that." Chris acknowledged. "Good thing we've been getting some help with the patrols, or we'd be in trouble."

"Nathan say anything about – well about anything?"

"Besides blaming himself for not doing more – no. Don't know what he figured he could do. Not a miracle worker."

"No," JD agreed, "that's more Josiah's area, and he figures he let us all down on that too."

"Pretty pig-headed bunch, aren't we?" Chris grinned slightly at the situation. "Everyone sure we should be doing something, and nobody knowing what."

They went quiet, sipping at coffee and wishing there was something else to be doing.

Ezra closed his eyes again. " _This has gone on long enough. Holding on like this is only hurting them, and can't possibly help me. For once in your life Standish, choose the noble action. Either figure out a way to come back, or leave them in peace._ "

When he opened his eyes, he was back in his room. Obviously, some time had passed since he'd been there, as the body on the bed looked far closer to death than he remembered. He was surprised by how pale and shrunken he seemed. He didn't know whether that had more to do with time, or with the surrender to fate, but either way, it was a disturbing sight. Almost as disturbing as the shape Buck was in. His pallor came close to matching Ezra's. The spark that always lit his eyes had faded out, and the sorrow that had moved in was painful to see.

Ezra was having a great deal of difficulty reconciling his two worlds. He could look down at the form in the bed, and know beyond any doubt it was him. Yet, it didn't feel that way. He was here, now. Thinking. Feeling. Alive by almost any concept of the word. Non-corporeal to be sure, but alive. And as long as he could still function at that level, he had to believe there was a way to return.

Yes, he knew what Nathan had said, but surely that must be wrong. He was functional. Fully functional, as far a he could tell. He saw what was going on, he heard what the others said. When he spoke, he could hear himself. " _I can still hear myself, correct? Ah, good."_

And he could move. At least in this form. After all, he'd been wandering the town with no issues. But the body, that might be another story. What if he was too damaged to recover? What had Nathan said about that? He was having trouble remembering.

" _Damn, that can't be good. Concentrate_." What had Nathan said? The injuries weren't all that severe. It was the head injury causing the problem, and as he had established to his own satisfaction, his head was just fine. Every bit as good as it had been before this experience anyway.

" _Alright Ezra. The time has come to take action. A Standish does not go down without a fight, assuming all other options have been exhausted_."

He found himself next to the bed, more by thought than action. " _This is truly a convenient mode of travel. Shame to have to give that up_." He looked down, at a loss for what to do next. " _Well, the goal is to reconnect the ethereal with the tangible. I suppose the most logical approach would be to do just that_." He tentatively reached out, afraid to make contact for fear of failure. He really didn't have a plan B to turn to. His hand brushed against the still form. There was a strong tingling sensation, which caused him to pull back in surprise. The body on the bed twitched slightly, immediately catching Buck's attention.

"Ezra - you there Hoss? You trying to tell me something?"

There was no further movement. " _Well, that clearly was insufficient_." Ezra reached down again, glancing over to Buck as he did so. " _If this works, you are in for quite a shock my friend_." He grabbed for the hand, ready this time for the consequence. There was a pulling sensation, coming at him from multiple directions. It seemed to be trying, in equal parts, to pull him toward the body, and at the same time, pushing him back. He fought the feeling, knowing to his core that if he didn't succeed now, there would be no additional chance. The push away from returning was becoming far stronger than the pull, and he could actually feel himself fading, losing the battle. He knew was running out of time and energy. Looking up again, he saw Buck taking his other hand, a single tear on his cheek.

"You keep fighting Ezra. I can't shake the feeling you just ain't ready to go yet."

" _Damn straight Mr. Wilmington_." Ezra turned his head toward the forces trying to take him from his friends. " _Enough! I am not going with you. I have promises to keep, so back off!"_ He was knocked off his feet by the sudden impact of energy. " _Damn it,_ " he thought, as the world around him went black.

7-7-7-7-7-7

Buck could feel Ezra twitching and trembling on the bed. He feared this was it. Death throes. The final moment. He held Ezra's hand tighter. "I'm sorry Ezra. Sorry we couldn't find a way to fix it this time. Don't you worry about us. We'll get through this. Nathan's gonna be a long time letting himself off the hook. Same goes for the others. Yeah, me too."

He looked away as Ezra quieted. This was wrong. It was undeserved, unfair, and just – well, wrong. He set his focus out of the window, giving himself a moment to settle his emotions. He'd have to go tell the others. This was going to be hard to get past. He hadn't lied. Nathan was never going to completely forgive himself. The others, well each man thought he could have done more. Stopped the thief with the dynamite. Stopped the whole damn thing. They'd all lost friends before, although the experience was never something you got used to. For JD, well this was closest to a family death since his ma died. He'd take it hard, maybe harder than the others. Then again, maybe not. It was going to feel like losing a son to Josiah, and a brother for the rest of them. Any way you looked at, this was going to change them.

He sighed, turning back. He started to pull his hand free, to stand up. Ezra's fingers were weakly clenched around his hand. "I know Hoss. I really don't want to let go either." He tugged gently, and almost fell off his chair when the grip tightened on his hand. The hold was still weak, but firm, real and most definitely alive.

"Ezra? Can you hear me?" He looked for any sign of reaction in Ezra's face, but saw none. With his free hand, unwilling to pull the other from the tentative indicator of life, he tapped Ezra's face. Still nothing. He thought for a moment, then lowered his voice to match Chris's tone as best he could. "Damn it Standish - wake up." There was a small stirring of the head, and slight side to side roll. "Shit. Ezra. Come on." He watched in disbelief as the eyes opened slowly, blinked a few times, then closed again. It wasn't much, but it was life.

He leapt to his feet, and charged out, almost pulling the door from its hinges. "Nathan, get up here. He's waking up!"

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"You sure about this Buck?" Nathan sat beside the bed, checking Ezra over once again. There were no further signs of activity from him, but Buck was insistent.

"His eyes were open, and he moved his hand. I know what you're thinking Nathan, but it wasn't my imagination."

"Could have just been reflex."

"No – I growled at him, the way Chris does. He reacted."

"I don't growl." Chris said, a low rumble to his voice.

"Yeah, right. And Ezra doesn't play poker and Buck doesn't chase women."

"I do not chase women, Josiah. They ain't running away." He turned back to Nathan. "I know what I saw. What I felt. This isn't jus-"

There was a soft moan from the bed that silenced the room in an instant. They watched, not even breathing, as Ezra once again moved his head slightly. Smiles broke out on each face as the green of his eyes became evident.

"Son of a bitch. I never thought I'd be saying this, but welcome back Ezra." Chris spoke first.

"I knew it. I knew he was too stubborn to let something like this stop him." Vin added, smiling as he slapped a glowing JD on the back.

Nathan was silent. He leaned forward, waving his hand in front of Ezra face. When there was no reaction, he lightly slapped him. Still no reaction. "Ezra. Look at me. Take my hand Ezra. Squeeze my fingers." No movements were made. Nathan looked slowly at the others, and watched their faces fall as realization dawned on each man.

"Awake, but not here?" Josiah asked, his heart breaking again.

"But he responded. He reacted to my voice before." Buck challenged.

"He reacted to the sound, not the words or tone. Like any sudden noise."

"No," JD whispered. "Not like this. It ain't fair Buck. It ain't right."

"It's what I was afraid of from the minute you said he was awake. It's the only thing that made sense Chris. He was out for too long. Hurt too bad."

Knowing the answer, Vin spoke softly. "Nothing we can do?"

Nathan just shook his head. "We try to keep him comfortable and wait it out."

Buck wasn't convinced. "No. He reacted. I know it. This isn't over." Chris tried to pull his friend away from the bedside. "NO Chris! I saw it. I saw him. He's there. He's just not fully awake yet."

"Buck, I would love to be wrong. Couldn't be happier. But it just doesn't look that way."

"Not giving up on him."

"You don't have to. If there is even a spark there, we keep going with this." Chris looked around the room. "We sit with him, we talk to him." His eyes lit on Nathan. "It can't hurt him – right?"

The healer smiled sadly. "No, it can't. And like I said, I'm no doctor."

"Don't dismiss yourself Nathan. You've done wonders for all of us, including Ezra, in the past. This time, it's up to us, and hopefully some divine intervention to make the difference. You go get some dinner Buck." Josiah pulled the chair next to the bed. "I'll sit here with him for a while. We have a few things to talk about."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

A few days later, Chris walked slowly toward his destination, knowing Buck was going to be pissed off with him. But there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. The telegraph from the sheriff in Bitter Creek was clear. They'd spotted members of the Putman gang head toward Four Corners, armed and ready to kill. It was an all hands-on guard kind of situation, and Ezra would have to be left on his own. He wished he believed that mattered.

"Not gonna happen Cowboy. I'll go out there if I'm needed, but you find someone else to come in here then. Mary, or Inez, or Mrs. Potter – someone."

"Mary took Billy to see his grandmother. Didn't want him to be here when," he paused, reacting to the glare Buck delivered. "Fine, – if – Ezra dies. Inez is outta town. Said she needed supplies, but I think she just wanted to get away from this too. And Mrs. Potter is going to be staying with her children if there is gonna be a shoot-out in town – and there is."

"Fine. Then I'll take my post up here. Can shoot from this window, and it's got a good view of the town."

"You really want to draw fire here Buck? Give the gang a reason to send someone up?"

"What difference does it make to you? Worst they can do is kill him, and that's what everyone is waiting for anyway."

"It's not like we want it to happen Buck. You know that. But it's been four days since you saw him move, and almost three days before that. He's fading on us Buck."

They stood quietly staring each other down. "How are you going to feel if one of us gets hurt 'cause you were up here with him? More importantly, how do you think he'd feel?"

Buck closed his eyes. "He'd be mad as hell. I hate leaving him Chris. He shouldn't die alone." His voice was almost to soft to hear.

"He won't. He's weak, but Nathan says he's still hanging on. He'll be ok for a couple of hours, and we'll get back up here fast as we can. You stay here till I call you down."

"No, I'll come now. Need to be part of the planning if we are gonna get these bastards. It'll actually feel pretty good to have an enemy I can shoot at for a change." He walked back to the bed, once again adjusting the blanket that hadn't actually moved. "You hang in there Ez. I'll be back in bit."

As they walked from the room, Chris spoke. "You know he hates being called Ez, right?"

"Yeah, well maybe it'll get him pissed off enough to wake up and yell at me."

The telegraph was right, and four men rode into town a few hours later. Too arrogant and stubborn to surrender when surrounded, the battle didn't last long. Few shots were even fired before the confrontation was done. Three dead, the fourth dying. JD moved out from his position beside the jail house. He looked over to the saloon, where Ezra normally would have been posted. He could almost see him there, resetting his derringer, or holstering his pistol. He shook his head, trying to clear the image from his mind.

Buck was favouring his left arm after an awkward dive for cover, and Vin's ankle hadn't fared well when the sharpshooter jumped from the saloon roof to the lower stable, but all in all, it had been a good afternoon. The altercation had been a much-needed outlet that served to both protect the town and release the anger and tension that previously had had no avenue of escape.

Chris wearily climbed the stairs to Ezra's room. It was, as expected, exactly as they had left it. He pulled the chair closer to the bed. "You sure are being stubborn about this. Not that I blame you. Thought you'd want to know everyone came out of the gunfight pretty much in one piece. Well, everyone on our side of things anyway."

"You don't need to be telling him about that Chris. No point in getting him upset." Buck was leaning against the door frame, fatigue and frustration evident.

"He always liked to be kept up to date on what happened in town. Even when he's been laid up before, he kept his eyes and ears open."

"Course he did." Vin grinned as he stood at the foot of the bed. "Always needed to be aware of what was happening around him. Like the way he'd watch to make sure there weren't any ringers or lookouts in the room while he was playing cards."

"Wouldn't have mattered if the whole room had been against him," JD came to his friend's defence. "Ezra still would have won every hand."

Josiah nodded slowly. "Yes, he left nothing to chance."

"Nothing except explosives." Vin muttered, the smile leaving his face.

Nathan stood at the door, hands on his hips and a stern expression on is face. "I am pretty sure I told you two to go lie down and get some rest. You don't heal up by moving around."

"We can sit quiet here just as easy as we can anywhere else Nathan." Buck responded.

"I would dare say, you gentlemen can't sit quietly anywhere."

"Now that's not true Ezra, we can be-" Buck stopped mid -sentence. "Ezra?"

"I would dearly appreciate a demonstration of that fact, Mr. Wilmington, as your incessant chatter is not doing my aching head any favour."

The six men stared, speechless. One by one, they hazarded glances at each other, as if to confirm they were not the only ones to have heard his voice. When Ezra began to struggle to sit up, they all became animated again.

"No, Ezra, don't move around. You got busted up some, and you haven't moved for a bit so you're gonna be sore."

"As always Mr. Jackson, you have demonstrated a true gift for understatement. Good Lord, was I caught in a stampede?"

"Close to it – you were a little too near to a bundle of dynamite," Chris clarified. "Just do what Nathan tells you."

"I doubt I have very much choice in the matter. I would be hard pressed to name a muscle or joint that doesn't ache beyond reason. Would you care to explain to me why my pain is causing you all so much pleasure?"

"That ain't why we're smiling Pard. It's just so damn good to hear your voice. You got no idea."

"I take if I have been resting for some time then?"

"Better than 6 days. And it was a bit more than resting Ezra." Josiah was determined to keep his voice calm and casual, hiding the emotions that were threatening to overtake him.

"We don't need to go into all that now." Nathan interrupted. "You two, go follow orders. Get some rest."

"Were you injured in the explosion as well?" Ezra asked, concern crossing his face for the first time.

"No, Ezra. That was all you. We'll fill you in later." Chris turned to the team. "Let him rest. Nathan, you'll stay with him I assume."

"For now. I'll let you know when you can come back." They all reluctantly turned to leave, except for JD. The young man had been standing still, barely daring to breath for the past minutes. Buck reached out to him.

"No, don't touch me," he whispered. "I don't want to wake up from this."

"Relax kid – it's no dream. He's back."

"You were right. You knew."

"Didn't know. Just hoped more than I ever have for anything in my life."

7-7-7-7-7-7-7

The sun was streaming to the room as six men watched Ezra sleep.

"How can he sleep with this much light in the room?" JD wondered.

"Real question is how can he sleep with all of us talking so much." Vin countered.

"I can tell you from experience, if it means sleeping in, he can sleep through just about anything." The was quiet laughter as the acknowledge the truth of the statement.

"Except for your sarcastic barbs Mr. Larabee. Those would prod the dead into reviving." The innocent comment sobered the room.

"That what we do to you Ezra? Raise you from the dead?" Josiah asked, not entirely in jest.

"From what Mr. Jackson explained last night, added to some vague memories I seem to possess, that would appear to have been the case."

No one spoke for a moment, unsure of where to go with the thought. Ezra filled the void. "And if that is in fact the reality, please allow me to express my eternal gratitude."

"You did the work Ezra. We mostly just sat around with our fingers up our noses trying to figure out something to do." Buck responded.

"No, you did much more than that. Don't ask me how I know that to be true, but I do." He rested his head back again. Even this short discussion was wearing him down.

"You have memories of what went on while you were-" JD stumbled over how to end the thought. "Hurt," he added weakly.

"Not so much memories, as impressions. I have the sense that I was aware of my circumstances, without actually being able to affect them in any way. I was left with a feeling of sorrow and regret, not so much at what was happening to me, but how it was affecting others."

"You could see us?"

"No. At least, I don't think so. That would be an illogical conclusion based on the state of my health. Undoubtedly, it was dreams – merely the expressions of my unfulfilled plans and wishes. Strange. I have the sensation they occurred early in my incapacitation, but seemed to end rather abruptly."

"Anything specific in those thoughts?" Nathan knew he should be encouraging Ezra to rest, but the notion of finding out what the man thought while unconscious was too tempting for him to ignore.

"Impressions only. No, that is not accurate. I recall a dream of a conversation with Chaucer. The poor steed was startled by my presence, and it took no small amount of convincing to settle him."

Vin went almost as pale as Ezra was. "Were me and Tiny in this dream of yours?" Ezra nodded as much as the throbbing in his head would allow. "We were there Ezra. Chaucer was calm – hell – he was grieving. Then all the sudden he spooked like nothing I've seen from him before. We backed off, but I'd swear he was listening to some. Settled down after that, even took a peppermint from me. You weren't dreaming Pard. You were there."

Ezra stared mutely for a moment. "That matches my recollection, but you do realize what you describe is impossible."

"Maybe so Son," Josiah commented, "but sounds like it happened anyway. Think this is what they mean when they say there's more stuff going on in the world than we are supposed to understand."

"Paraphrased, Mr. Sanchez. But apparently accurate."

"Anything else come to mind?"

Ezra thought about Buck's question, and some of the vague memories he was starting to recall. It was, at a minimum, an overwhelming experience, and added to his exhaustion, left him drained. Without realizing it, he pressed his eyes closed and sighed deeply, his body going limp.

Nathan read the actions accurately.

"OK, that's it for now. Out, all of you."

"No, I'm staying. You need some rest Nathan." Chris pulled over the chair. "You've been with him all night. I'll stay for a bit if that's okay with you Ezra?"

"I don't envision that I will be enlightening company."

"You don't have to be. If you feel up to listening, I have a few things to say, but they'll keep if you'd rather."

"Such a dilemma. Sleep, or a lecture from Mr. Larabee. I really cannot make a decision."

"No lecture Ezra. Just some things that need saying."

"Go easy Chris. He's still pretty weak."

"I know Nathan. Don't worry. I'm the bad guy in this discussion, not him."

The room was far too quiet after the door had closed and the footsteps faded off. Ezra turned to look at Chris, wincing slightly at the stream of light. Chris postponed his comments by standing and pulling the curtains together, muting the sunlight.

"Thank you. I find I am not quite ready for the harsh reality of daylight. On the matter of harsh reality, I assume you have stayed to chastise me in private for the foolish actions I took that came close to causing so much damage to the town and the team. I should have acted more precipitously in disposing of the explosives."

"Damn it Ezra. You have a talent for getting me mad like no one else has ever come close to. Not even Buck after a night of drinking is as irritating as you can be."

"I'm at a loss for how to respond to that."

"Then don't. Yeah, I'm mad at you. Tend to get that way when my friends damn near get themselves killed. In case you haven't figured it out, the damage you did to this team and town was in almost dying, not in blowing anything up. It was a stupid move. And one of the bravest things I ever saw."

Ezra would have fallen over had he been standing up.

"Then why, pray tell, did you feel the need to speak to me?"

"To apologize. I gave up on you Ezra."

"Understandable. Mr. Jackson explained to me the nature of my injuries, and the incongruity of my survival."

"You don't get it Ezra. All those months ago I made you promise not to run out on us, then I turn around and run out on you."

"Perhaps it is the head injury, but I am confused. Were you not standing here, by my side when I regained conscious awareness? Was Mr. Jackson fabricating facts when he informed me that you, in rotation with all of the others, stayed by my side at all times?"

"But I didn't believe Ezra. I didn't expect us to be having this conversation."

"To have not 'given-up' as you express it, would have been foolish."

"The others didn't. Buck, JD, Vin. They all believed. Josiah prayed like nothing I've seen before. Nathan, well, he couldn't get past the things he'd seen in the war when people was a busted up as you were. But me, I just didn't think you'd be able to come back from this. Wasn't really sure you'd want to."

"Why would I prefer death to life?"

"You might well prefer it to life here, Ezra. This isn't your world. Little town like this. No challenge. No real gambling. None of the stuff that is pretty much in your blood. This isn't who you are."

Ezra smiled, finally understanding what Chris was trying to say.

"No challenge? Mr. Larabee, you challenge me every day. No gambling? Why just wagering on what kind of trouble Misters Dunne and Wilmington will find on any given day is more than sufficient stimulation." He paused to gather his thoughts, holding up a shaky hand to stave off the pending interruption. "I don't recall most of what transpired in my mind in the days I was unconscious, but one revelation does remain with me. I recall wishing I had taken the opportunity to thank you, all of you, for helping me to see who I am. To become something more than a reprobate. A snake-oil salesman, untrustworthy, and just plain unworthy."

Chris smiled. "Don't image anyone around here would say that about you now. And if they tried, they be answering to the rest of the town, not to mention six rather pissed off gunmen."

"That is truly reassuring to hear. There is one thing I must correct in your previous statement. This town, this life – it is not who I was. I dearly hope though, that it is who I am now."

"Guess maybe it is at that Ezra."

M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7-M7

 _ **The End**_


End file.
